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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28866318">The Regular</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/funyunsandlime/pseuds/funyunsandlime'>funyunsandlime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:07:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28866318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/funyunsandlime/pseuds/funyunsandlime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zuko helps his uncle at his cafe, and finds himself interested in one of the regulars.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katara/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Regular</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing I had found out about food service is you don’t realize someone’s a regular until they’ve been a regular for a while. The first time someone comes in, you don’t know they’re going to come in regularly. You don’t even realize the second time. Or the third.<br/>
<br/>
For her, I realized she was a regular when she strolled up to the counter, pulling her headphones from her ears. We exchanged polite pleasantries before she placed her order. A dirty chai latte. I didn’t notice I had already started marking the order on the cup—well before she had said her order out loud. She laughed quietly to herself, a light laugh that reminded me vaguely of a windchime.<br/>
<br/>
The marker hesitated over the cup, but I continued to mark down the order. I didn’t ask her for a name. I already knew it. She put the money down on the counter. The cash was sorted neatly, and the bills were bank faced. She knew how much the coffee would cost. She had bought it maybe dozens of times before.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you,” she said with a polite smile before she went off to the side to wait for her drink to be made.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe I was imagining it, but her smile seemed a bit more playful this time.<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>+++</p>
</div><p>I noticed her right away when she came in the next day, her cheeks red and nose red from the cold outside. There were light flecks of snow that caught in her hair, and they stood out against the rich chocolate brown curls. Her dark hair was a perfect complement to her brown skin, something I didn’t see much of in her current bundled up state. Her eyes found mine, and I cast my gaze down to the register, trying not to get caught ogling her in the shop.</p><p>“Good morning,” she said in a warm, friendly tone.</p><p>“Hello,” I said, reaching for a cup with one hand. “What can I do for you?”</p><p>She was digging in her bag for her wallet, “Dirty chai, please.”</p><p>I started marking the cup with her order, but I quickly glanced up at her over the register, “How are you doing today?”</p><p>She stopped looking through her purse to look up at me, confused by my cordiality. I felt an instant pang of regret for even trying to be nice to her. I was completely betrayed by my efforts. I normally didn’t go out of my way to be nice to people in general.<br/>
For as many times as my uncle had begged me—implored me—to be nicer to the customers, I had never heeded his advice. I was never known for being a particularly warm or friendly person and dealing with stubborn or troublesome people often brought out the worst of my temper. It had only taken a few complaints from some of his regular patrons to earn myself the first of his many lectures, which were full of metaphors and convoluted, vaguely veiled advice.</p><p>“I’m doing great,” the girl said before I could overthink my actions any longer. “And yourself?”</p><p>“I’m well,” I replied curtly, turning away to start making her coffee. “Thanks.”<br/>
<br/>
I felt her eyes boring a hole into my back as I packed the espresso, unsure why I suddenly felt so nervous. She was just here to get coffee, like any other customer that came into the Jasmine Dragon. She was no different than anyone else. I was just being a bit nicer to her today. I finished the drink and quickly lidded it, passing it to her across the counter.</p><p>“Have a great day,” she said cheerily, her charming, uneven smile bringing a small blush to my cheeks as she turned away towards the door.</p><p>My voice almost caught in my throat as I rasped out, “Yeah, thanks.”<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>+++</p>
</div><p>We continued our new, advanced form of communication for the next couple weeks. Our short, friendly interactions quickly became the brightest part of my morning. I caught myself with a shy smile after she had left, and I was thankful my uncle was never around when she came in. He would notice my odd behavior right away. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure why I found myself so engaged in our short, courteous interactions, but I was. She was, without a doubt, beautiful, but she wasn’t the kind of girl I was normally attracted to. I bet she never had a punk or scene phase, and I bet she never carried a pocketknife around in high school unironically. If she had a Tumblr—I’m sure she didn’t—it would have bright, cheery, colorful photos instead of dark, depressing monologues and pictures of crows or ravens. She had never read anything from Kurt Vonnegut or Nietzsche. She probably had never been involved in a mosh pit. Nevertheless, I was interested in her. I wanted to know more about her. She was magnetic, charming, and I felt myself drawn to the pull of her beauty and kindness.<br/>
<br/>
However, on this particular day, the morning came and went, and I did not see her. I found myself looking at the digital clock on the POS, and as noon rolled around, I had resolved she was not coming in today. I felt disappointed. I could feel my shoulders slump slightly as I continued to work through the day, most definitely sulking. My face set into a scowl, returning to the surly person I usually was while working behind the counter. The day wore on, and the afternoon gradually turning into the early evening.<br/>
<br/>
I was in the back of the shop, weighing out beans and tea leaves for sale. The setup in the back was simple, a couple of stainless-steel prep tables, a small walk-in refrigerator, and a dish pit. My uncle did the roasting of the beans in a roaster towards the back of the restaurant, in full view of the customers. He often chatted with people as he did so, sharing conversation and tidbits of his wisdom. People loved him, adored him. But he worked too much. I had begged him to take the rest of the evening off, but he said he was unable to leave until the beans and leaves were packed. I had insured him the task would be completed to his standard and basically forced him to leave. He had gone back to the apartment for the evening, leaving me alone in the shop. There was no one in the coffee shop, and the only sound was the soft sound of a podcast I was playing in the back. And just before the sun started sliding downward towards the horizon, I heard the bell from the front door.<br/>
<br/>
Sighing irritably, I pushed through the swinging door that led from the back to the front of the shop. Before my annoyance could fully creep in, I froze in place. There she was. She was already standing at the counter, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her eyes shifted to meet mine, and the smile that crept across her face made my cheeks flush red.</p><p>“Hi,” she said shyly.</p><p>“Hi,” I parroted. “You… it’s nighttime.”</p><p>She nodded slowly, “I’ve got an overnight shift at the hospital tonight.”</p><p>I hesitated but grabbed a cup anyways, “You work at the hospital?”</p><p>“I’m a resident,” she answered, kind of straightening up with some semblance of pride.</p><p>“That means nothing to me,” I replied bluntly, wincing as I realized how rude I sounded.</p><p>Thankfully, she laughed lightly as I accepted her cash, “It’s like a doctor-in-training.”</p><p>My eyebrow arched, and I tried not to sound as impressed as I was, “Doctor, huh?”</p><p>My back was to her now, as I readied the espresso for her drink. The machine whirred as the thick, aromatic coffee spilled into the cup.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess,” she said, the bashfulness coming through clearly in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
I cast a look over my shoulder at her, smiling at the pinkish blush that colored her cheeks. I wasn’t sure why she was embarrassed about her job or career choice, but I found it fairly adorable. She mirrored my smile, shyly looking away from me. I turned back to her coffee, putting the finishing touches on the order.</p><p>“What do you do?” She replied quickly, and I couldn’t hold back my small snort of laughter.<br/>
Her cheeks were darkening now, the blush spreading to her ears and hairline, “I mean, you work at a coffee shop. This is obviously your job.”</p><p>I pressed my lips together to suppress my shit-eating grin, “It’s okay.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her face still a bright red.</p><p>“It’s okay,” I repeated, flashing her a small smile reassuringly.</p><p>I set the coffee down in front of her, and she wrapped her hands on it. Normally, she would turn around and we would wish each other a good day, but she lingered for a second. There was a small moment of silence, and I found myself desperate to fill it.</p><p>“Software engineer,” I blurted out, and she tilted her head at me. “I’m actually a software engineer. I just help out around here until my uncle finally decides to retire or hire more help.”</p><p>Her eyes were searching mine with a kind of intensity that made my throat and chest tighten up. It was as if she were seeing straight into me. The silence that was between us now felt more comfortable now; it was like I was watching the gears turn inside her head as she considered me.</p><p>“Software engineer,” she echoed. “That’s very cool.”</p><p>I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, “Cooler than doctors, some would say.”</p><p>“That’s debatable, but thanks for the coffee,” she said, backing away from the counter slowly.</p><p>I watched her walk to the door and tried not to feel a bit giddy as she turned around to give me one last wave and smile before ducking out into the street.<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>+++</p>
</div><p>I was going to ask her out. I had to. I played the scenario out over and over in my mind, and I tried to plan it out perfectly. I knew myself, and I knew I would be physically unable to say the words out loud to her. Also, the idea of being rejected in person, on the spot, at my job was painful. I was going to slip her my number and give her the choice to contact me. That way, if she didn’t want to call or text me, I wouldn’t have that instant rejection. It would be a slow burn, but that was okay with me.<br/>
<br/>
She was right on time, a little bit of bounce in her step. I met her eye, and I couldn’t help myself but smile at the sight of her. Her hair was down today, the curls bouncing with her as she strolled through the front door. I noticed that her look was much more casual, she had traded in her lose scrubs for a snug pair of jeans. She was laughing, and she turned around to talk to somebody following her. My stomach sank. She was with a man. He was tall, with the same mocha-colored skin as her. He had a hard fade, the rest of his hair pulled into a pretentious man bun. He wasn’t poorly dressed, but he definitely wasn’t dressed to my taste. He was good-looking, there was no denying that. He was gesturing wildly and earned a proper cackly laugh from her. I could almost feel the jealousy leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. They stood close together as they talked, and there was no denying they were comfortable with each other. I had never seen her look happier.<br/>
I could feel my plans to leave her my number fly out the window.</p><p>“Good morning,” she said brightly to me, and I reached for a cup to mark the name and order for her drink.</p><p>“Hello,” I said, my politeness forced into my tone.<br/>
<br/>
She pulled out her wallet and counted out a few bills, elbowing the man next to her, “You want anything?”</p><p>“You haven’t even ordered yet,” the man challenged, eyeballing some of the pastries that were sitting in the case yearningly.</p><p>“I’m here all the time,” she said, gesturing to me; I had already started making her drink. “He knows.”</p><p>The man narrowed his eyes and looked between me and her, “I just want a piece of baklava.”</p><p>As the espresso was pouring, I reached into the case for the pastry, slotting it into a wax-paper bag for her… companion. I set it on the counter, and she put down a few extra bucks because of her changed total. I tried to give her some change, but she waved me off. I reached around the POS and deposited the leftover change into the aluminum tip can by the register. I turned my attentions back to her drink as she and the man chatted amicably. Her voice had so much character in it, much more than when we exchanged short conversations at the register. They played off each other so well, they had to have known each other for a long time. Every second that passed made my heart sink lower and lower into the floor along with my confidence. I set the coffee down in front of her, and she offered me a wide smile. I couldn’t force myself to return it, turning around to clear out the espresso machine and clean off the milk foaming wand.</p><p>The man laughed loudly, an offensive sound that disrupted the whole shop, “Well, for someone that knows you, he’s spelling your name wrong.”</p><p>Every muscle in my body tightened, and I turned around on a dime. My face was hot, bright red with blush.</p><p>She was smiling apologetically at me, “It’s a K, not a C.”</p><p>“I didn’t know,” I said, my voice a bit raspy.</p><p>“Don’t let it bother you,” she insisted, now her cheeks a little red with blush. “I’m sorry, my brother’s an idiot.”</p><p>I choked on the words in my mouth, “Your brother?”</p><p>I said it in the same tone that I would have said, “I’m a fucking idiot.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ll never bring him back here again,” she promised, shooting an angry glare at the man who had now wandered towards the door. “He’s a nightmare, obviously. He’s just in town for the week.”</p><p>I felt frozen in place, too many thoughts running through my head at once. My eyes were stuck on the coffee cup in her hand, now hating myself for letting the presence of a man stop me from shooting my shot and just putting my number on the side of it. Instead, what I had scratched on the cup in loopy, uneven letters was a name. Not hers. I felt the embarrassment and the shame hot through my veins. While I regretted not giving her my number, I was glad I didn’t. She wouldn’t want to call me anyway. She was way out of my league—a beautiful, friendly doctor who tips consistently and well. I shook my head like a Etch-A-Sketch, trying to clear my mind of all my offensive thoughts. Dwelling on this would only further my self hate.<br/>
<br/>
“Have a good day,” I blurted.</p><p>She hesitated awkwardly, and I tried not to see the flickering of offense in her eyes. She held my gaze for just a moment before nodding and following her brother. She stopped before stepping outside, looking back at me. I kept my eyes down, fussing with some of the cash in the drawer mindlessly. Once the front door swung shut, I pulled at the strings of my apron angrily, tugging it over my head and storming towards the back of the shop.</p><p>“Where are you going, Nephew?” My uncle called out to me.</p><p>“On a break,” I fired back snippily, throwing the apron on the prep table heatedly.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>+++</p>
</div><br/>The shop was busier than normal. It was finals week at Ba Sing Se University, and so there were a lot of people looking for quiet places to study. And the Jasmine Dragon was the perfect place, and we were doing some of our biggest numbers of the year yet. However, it just truly meant that my uncle was putting in too many hours—which included coming in for my morning shift to work alongside me behind the counter. As the rush had simmered down, Uncle insisted that I take a load off, even if just for fifteen minutes or so.<p>I had chosen a small two-person table tucked away towards the back of the shop, scrolling through Reddit and sipping on a cup of tea. Uncle, despite owning a coffee shop, found coffee disgusting and refused to let me have any while he was around. He had made me a blend with turmeric something-or-another. It was okay—it tasted like leaves.</p><p>I was trying to keep an eye on the clock. It was almost time for her—Katara—to come in, and I didn’t want to miss her. The last thing I wanted was for my uncle to serve her and say something embarrassing about me that would prevent her from ever returning to the shop. The week her brother was in town, she made him wait outside while she came in to get her coffee. I hadn’t quite built my courage back up, a bit hesitant now to ask her out while her brother was around. But I hadn’t seen him for a while, and I could feel some of my nerve returning.</p><p>I pushed my hand through my hair and sighed, leaning back in the chair and letting my eyes glaze over as I tried to relax. I had remembered to bring my headphones, and I let my music run aimlessly. As I lifted my cup to my lips, someone approached my table and put their hand on the chair across from me. I could feel the scowl on my face and looked up, totally ready to tell them I wasn’t able to help them right now.</p><p>“Is this seat taken?” Katara asked me, her eyes sparkling mischievously.</p><p>I sucked in a mouthful of hot tea and coughed, but shook my head and croaked out, “No, go ahead.”</p><p>She smiled and pulled the chair out to sit down, leaning forward on her elbows and wrapping both of her hands around her coffee cup. I pulled my headphones out of my ears, knowing it would be rude to keep them in if she was sitting down to drink her coffee with me. But it was weird, I wasn’t sure why she would be sitting down to drink it here. She never drank her coffee at the shop; she always took it to go.</p><p>“You guys are busy today,” she pointed out, looking around the full tables and quietly working students.</p><p>I nodded, my throat still tight from choking on my tea, “Yeah.”</p><p>Her hands shifted on the cup a little, and I saw that my uncle had written her name on the cup correctly, and I scoffed under my breath. She turned back around to me, her blue eyes focusing on mine with curiosity.</p><p>“What?” She asked, her lips pressed together as if she was holding back a smile.</p><p>I gestured to her cup, “My uncle spelled your name right.”</p><p>Her poker face broke and she smiled sympathetically, “To be fair, he asked.”</p><p>I groaned quietly, having a very vivid flashback of one of my first weeks at the shop. Uncle had told me if I ever felt unsure how to spell someone’s name, the foolproof way to get it right would be to ask. It was ironic how that particular lesson had come back around to bite me in the ass.</p><p>“It’s not a big deal, I swear,” Katara insisted. “I don’t even know your name, let alone how to spell it.”</p><p>She lifted her cup to her lips, and I tried not to stare at her mouth as she took a small drink. I could hardly handle being around her with a few feet of counter between us, but this… felt different. We were closer than we ever had been before, and I felt incredibly affected by her charm.</p><p>“Zuko,” I said plainly, forcing myself to break eye contact with her, my eyes falling to the floor.</p><p>She nodded slowly and echoed, “Zuko.”</p><p>She held my gaze for a moment before looking down to the table and chewing on her bottom lip. She fiddled with her coffee cup and shifted in her seat; was she nervous? Was I making her uncomfortable?</p><p>She cleared her throat softly, “Sounds like a Fire Nation name.”</p><p>“You would be correct,” I said, impressed by her observation.</p><p>She rolled her shoulders back and straightened up a bit, obviously proud she was right, “So, what’s a software engineer from the Fire Nation doing in Ba Sing Se?”</p><p>I laughed a bit apprehensively, “Well, I did my first two years of university in Caldera, but I transferred down here to finish my degree. I wanted to be closer to my uncle, and the internship opportunities here were better.”</p><p>She was listening to me intently, her blue eyes flashing across my face as if she were trying to absorb every bit of my expression.<br/>
“Do you miss it? Caldera?” She asked me curiously.</p><p>“Never,” I admitted, my lips twitching into a smile.</p><p>She laughed quietly, the sound making my heart flutter, “I miss home all the time.”</p><p>I lifted my tea to my lips, “Where’s home?”</p><p>“Water Tribe,” she answered plainly.</p><p>“North or South?” I replied, hating that I sounded a bit like I was interrogating her.</p><p>She tilted her head to look at me, “Southern. But my Gran lived in the Northern Tribe for a bit, and her new husband is from there.”</p><p>I tried to force my tone to a friendlier, less clinical one, “That’s a long way to come for medical school.”</p><p>Katara smiled distantly, “It is, but I think I made the right choice. I really like Ba Sing Se.”</p><p>“It’s grown on me as well,” I admitted, earning myself another soft laugh from the beautiful woman opposite me.</p><p>Her eyes shifted to mine and held my gaze, “I really like the people here.”</p><p>My eyebrow arched at her curiously, and I felt frozen in place. She looked a bit coy, shifting in her seat and leaning forward on the table. But I was totally rooted in place. Was she hitting on me? There was no way. I realized that this was the longest, most personal conversation we had ever had. She didn’t seem to want to run away from me, and I found that quite encouraging. As a matter of fact, if I wasn’t mistaken, she seemed to be quite enjoying herself, but I wasn’t sure if she was trying to come on to me or not.</p><p>“Nephew!” My uncle called to me. “Do you have a moment?”<br/>
<br/>
He was reaching upwards, trying to grab one of the crocks full of beans from the topmost shelf. I narrowed my eyes at him; he had a stepstool back there. I knew it.<br/>
Katara stood up, “I shouldn’t keep you from your work.”</p><p>I followed suit and stood up, draining my tea and pocketing my phone, “It’s not a problem. He’s just being… difficult.”</p><p>She hesitated for a bit, shifting her weight between her feet for a moment, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>I nodded, pushing my hands deep in my pockets. For whatever reason, now that she was standing in front of me, I could feel my nerves start to get the better of me. For as pleasant as the conversation had been, my anxiety started to creep in.<br/>
<br/>
Before she could get another word in, I slunk away towards the back kitchen, meandering to the sink and washing my hands. I wanted to kick myself; if there had ever been a moment to ask her out, that was the moment. It had been perfect. When would I get another chance like that? I tugged at the paper towels and dried my hands slowly. I might never get another chance. Instead of grabbing my apron and heading back behind the counter, I hurried out back to the front of the shop. The door had just closed behind her, and she was bundling into her coat. I moved quickly through the shop, weaving through people standing in line to get out the front door. The streets were a bit busy, but she hadn’t gone too far down the sidewalk yet. She was carrying a small paper bag; she must have grabbed a pastry on her way out.</p><p>“Katara!” I shouted, and she turned around, her eyebrows furrowed with confusion.<br/>
I closed the distance between us, my breath a bit shaky and heavy from the cold, “Do you want to get a drink with me sometime?”</p><p>Her expression changed instantly, “Like a coffee?”</p><p>“No, like an alcoholic one,” I suggested, but instantly corrected myself. “Or not. If you don’t want.”</p><p>She looked incredibly amused now, and I could tell she was holding back a smile.</p><p>Her silence made me anxious, so I quickly continued on, “Maybe over dinner. Or lunch. We don’t just… need to drink. We could eat, too.”</p><p>“I’d love to,” she answered simply, and I could feel my shock on my expression.</p><p>“Great,” I said excitedly. “That’s great!”</p><p>“Call me,” she said shyly, turning away from me and heading down the street.</p><p>I backed away from her, but called after her, “I will!”</p><p>I turned back to the shop and felt my feet turn to lead. Call her? How would I call her? I didn’t have her number. I swiveled around on my heels, but she had already disappeared around the corner. All of the adrenaline and excitement drained out of me, and I slumped back into the shop. My uncle tried getting my attention, but I waved him off. Just as I thought I had redeemed myself with Katara, I had blown it again. I shrugged into my apron and went back behind the counter.</p><p>“Nephew,” Uncle said. “Look at the—”</p><p>I cut him off, “Not now, Uncle.”</p><p>He put his hand on my shoulder, “Zuko, look.”</p><p>In his hand was a receipt for a pastry. On the bottom, underneath the signature line, written in loopy cursive were the words “call me” followed by a ten-digit phone number. I took the receipt from him, my mouth slightly agape. She had left me her number.</p><p>“That beautiful girl wants me to call her!” Uncle said, clapping me on the back with a jovial laugh. “Can you believe it?”</p><p>I held the receipt tighter in my hand, “This is not for you, Uncle.”</p><p>“In that case, we’ll have to do something about your hair,” he said, stroking his goatee and looking at me with a critical eye.</p><p>“We’ll do nothing of the sort,” I said sternly. “Leave me alone.”</p><p>“Of course, Nephew,” Iroh said with a mischievous glint in his eye.</p><p>I hurried to the back and flattened the receipt out on the table, typing a quick message into my phone and sending it off. I pocketed the phone and the receipt, not even wanting to take a chance throwing it away in case I had put it in my phone wrong. As I came back behind the counter, I busied myself cleaning the steam wands on the espresso machines to hide my smile from Uncle. And just when I thought my shit-eating grin couldn’t get wider, my phone vibrated in my pocket.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I appreciate anyone's kudos or comments or bookmarks or anything, really! Thanks!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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